


Immune

by Chie (Chierafied)



Series: Reader Prompts JL [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Humor, Pre-Relationship, Short One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 17:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10340934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chierafied/pseuds/Chie
Summary: Chewing on her favourite quill, she stared at James Potter with a dissatisfied frown. He had the most infuriating hair Lily had ever seen. It was always sticking up here and there defying all semblances of neatness – and it didn't help that he kept mussing it every chance he got.





	

It was early on a Monday morning, and the Gryffindor Common Room was as good as deserted, save for a small group of yawning fifth years and a lone seventh year slumped over his desk, still squeezing a quill in his sleep.

Lily trudged down the last few steps, stifling a yawn of her own. She dragged her feet – just a little bit – as she made her way over to her usual corner. It was a bit weird, to see the Common Room so empty, but then again, anyone who was up at this ungodly hour must’ve been insane.

She grumpily questioned her own sanity as well, but then, she only had herself to blame.

This would be the last time, she promised herself. No more putting off school assignments until the last possible minute.

Lily was still so sleep-fogged she didn’t realise her favourite sofa was occupied before she almost sat on him.

“Careful there, Evans.”

Lily blinked at James Potter, feeling even more peeved than she had before. Speaking of insane people…

“What’re you doing up so early?” she grumbled, plopping down to sit in the opposite corner – she’d be damned if she let Potter have the whole sofa to himself!

“I’m always up early,” he replied, insufferably cheerful. “Why’re you out of bed?”

“Schoolwork,” Lily replied, digging through her school bag, trying to find her text book.

“At six in the morning?” Potter asked, his voice torn between incredulous and amused.

Lily ignored him, setting up her inkwell and parchment.

Potter shrugged and went back to his Quidditch magazine.

Lily, despite her persisting bleary state, managed to read up on the assigned subject, but when it was time to face the blank sheet of parchment head on, both her gaze and concentration begun to stray.  

Chewing on her favourite quill, she stared at James Potter with a dissatisfied frown. He had the most infuriating hair Lily had ever seen. It was always sticking up here and there defying all semblances of neatness – and it didn't help that he kept mussing it every chance he got.

Even now, as he lounged in his corner of sofa, immersed in his Quidditch magazine, he was constantly running his hand through the dark strands, only making in messier.

Lily’s eyes narrowed in irritation. She’d always had a low tolerance for disorder and she was fearful of the day when she’d finally had enough of his ridiculous hair and snap; give in to the desperate urge to comb it with her fingers to see if she could coax it to lay flat.

In short, to Lily, James Potter’s hair was what a red cloth was to a bull; it was a personal affront to her sense of neatness.

Objectively speaking, most his features where rather pleasing to the eye – the high cheekbones and the strong jawline, to name a few – it was just the hair that cast all else into a sorry light and stamped him with an unfortunate dishevelled look.

“Can’t take your eyes off me, Evans?”

Potter was looking up from his magazine, his hazel eyes echoing the teasing grin playing on his lips.

“I was just wondering what you might look like if your hair was done nicely for once.”

“My hair _always_ looks nice,” Potter insisted indignantly.

“It’s a mess,” Lily huffed. “It defies all laws of gravity and is always sticking up. It’s _infuriating_.”

“You wound me, Evans,” he said, his lips twisted in a pout.

It was almost adorable.

Lily bit her lip. “I don’t know, I’d just like to see it _flat_ and neat. That shouldn’t be so hard, should it?”

“You’d be surprised,” was Potter’s wry reply.

Lily scoffed. “Really, have you never heard of hair potions? They do wonders.”

“I know entirely too much about hair potions, actually,” Potter said. “I also know they wouldn’t work.”

“What, are you allergic to hair potions or something?” Lily asked, incredulous.

Potter rubbed his neck and avoided her eyes. “Nah. I’m immune.”

“Immune? How can anyone be _immune_ to hair potions?”

Lily had never heard of such a thing! She leaned forward on her seat and stared at Potter.

When he blushed so furiously that even the tops of his ears – barely visible from under his infuriating hair – were burning, Lily’s curiosity piqued even more.

He was quiet for a long, tense moment, staring down into his lap, his cheeks still glowing. Then, finally, he cleared his throat.

“My father has a theory about that, but since it’s very embarrassing I’m not sure I’m comfortable sharing that with you.”

“Oh, come on,” Lily sighed. “Now you’ve got to tell me!”

She scooted over on the sofa and peered at Potter up close, reaching to grasp an errant strand of his hair between her fingers.

“Immune to hair potions,” she muttered to herself, twirling and studying that strand of dark hair.

Potter had gone perfectly still and his earlier flush had drained, leaving his face pale, his eyes wide like a deer’s in headlights.

Lily tried to put on her sweetest smile.

“Please? I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Are you sure you _really_ want to know?” Potter asked, his voice sounding a little strained. “Like I said, it’s embarrassing.”

Lily’s green eyes twinkled. “It’ll be our little secret,” she promised, giving his hair the tiniest tug.

Potter blushed again, though not so outrageously as before.

“My dad – he invented it, you know. Sleekeazy’s,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

“Eh?! _Really_?”

“Yes, really. And, uh, he says… He says he was trying out the prototype when… er, he got distracted. With my mum.”

“Oh?” Lily blinked.

Potter squirmed, clearly uncomfortable – and then it clicked. She abruptly let go of his hair.

“ _Oh_.” She bit her lip, feeling more than a little embarrassed herself. “And, so… nine months later…?” she prompted, wanting to make sure she was understanding correctly what Potter was trying – or rather, trying _not_ to say.

He nodded.

“Well. That _is_ embarrassing,” Lily admitted after a while, sitting back on her heels. “Kind of fascinating though. Can’t help but to wonder if the theory would be applicable to other potions, too.”

A grin tugged at Potter’s lips. “Well, if you ever feel like testing it out, you know where to find me.”

Lily’s response was as quick as it was sharp: “Sod off, Potter.”

They fell silent; Potter went back to his Quidditch magazine, and Lily contemplated her empty sheet of parchment for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said at last, her voice soft. “For trusting me with your embarrassing story.”

“You’re welcome.” Then, probably because he couldn’t help himself, Potter added: “…And if you do get curious again, my offer to test out the theory with you still stands.”

Lily shook her head. “You’re such a git,” she told him – but the corner of her lips twitched.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: James Potter was conceived under the effects of a hair potion


End file.
